


Ursa

by moonsmoocher



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Implied/Referenced Torture, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 05:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30067377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonsmoocher/pseuds/moonsmoocher
Summary: Bernadetta came to Helena with the final piece of evidence she needed to take down Count Varley. His life will end, one way or another.
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra
Kudos: 19





	Ursa

Helena woke to knocking on the door. Her head throbbed in time with her heart, a painful reminder of the magic she wove every night for Lady Edelgard. She would suffer this for as long as necessary, her entire life even, and she would do it gladly. That did not mean she could not be irritated at the nightly pains, or interruptions. Such is the life of a woman like her.

She grumbled to herself while she snapped the wick of her bed candle to life. Helena slid out of bed and rubbed her eyes. They were slick with the ichor sweat of dark magic, the price her body must pay. She took a deep breath and answered the door.

“Oh. It’s you. What do you need, Bernadetta.”

Bernadetta scuffed her slippers, swaying a little. She had her favorite stuffy with her, the black bear that Helena gave her for her birthday. She said, “I can’t sleep.”

“And thanks to you, neither can I. What is your point?” Helena said tersely.

“I, um… need some more of your sleeping potion.”

Helena sighed. “Fine. Get in. Quickly, Bernadetta. I don’t have all night.”

Bernadetta skittered in under Helena’s arm, quickly taking her favorite place among Helena’s many cushions and pillows, pulling the blankets over her knees. Helena kneaded her nose. She couldn’t deny that spending the rest of the night cuddled with her (secret) girlfriend would result in pleasant sleeping.

Helena shut the door after glancing outside. “Were you seen?” she said, softer. She hated having to be stern to her in public. It wasn’t even her idea, Bernadetta herself enforced the secret, at least until she had solid enough evidence to depose her tyrant of a father from the Varley seat.

“Of course not! Who do you think I am? Best assassin we have. No offense to the professor, but she’s got nothing on me.” Bernadetta said with pride. She had a wide, toothy smile. Helena had such a soft spot for that. It’s not quite the same as the grin she had during a kill, but it wasn’t far off.

“Quiet, Bernie. You know I don’t feel okay unless I ask.” Helena said, slipping in next to her. Her heart swelled. If only young Bernadetta could see herself now. She would probably run screaming from herself, and both Helena and Bernadetta would be laughing as she ran.

“I know. Kiss?” Bernadetta said, wiggling her butt to scoot closer to Helena.

Helena, of course, wanted nothing more. That _is_ Helena’s world famous sleeping potion. Or at least, famous to her girlfriend. Helena patted her lap and Bernadetta crawled on, straddling her lap, draping her arms over Helena’s shoulders, and she snuggled into her neck, kissing her plenty. Helena said, “I missed you, honeybear. Did you get anything good while you were scouting?”

“Nothing today for Edie, buuut I got a good lead for deposing my father.”

“Those are one in the same, my love.”

Bernadetta huffed. “They’re not and you know it.”

Helena sighed, repeating the phrase she must have said a thousand times since she and Bernadetta had started their pact to kill Count Varley, even before it had changed into a pact of love, “My loyalty belongs to Lady Edelgard but—”

“...but your heart belongs to me, yes, I know, Nellie,” Bernadetta interrupted with a sigh. It was not an important distinction to Helena, but Bernadetta cared little for the fate of the empire seeing as the plan was to burn it all up anyway, so her focus was much more personal—revenge. “I found one of my father’s spies hidden away among the servants at the gala in Enbarr, and he gave me some compelling information that corroborates the rumor of Varley looking to cede its power to Faerghus on our defeat. We’ll have to check in with Edie, of course, but I think it’s actionable to deploy a counter-spy operation back in Varley Manor. With, say, the best infiltrator and best poisoner we have. Us.”

“You know Lady Edelgard has a soft spot for you. She'd let you do much and more with or without her blessing,” Helena lied. Well, not quite a lie. Lady Edelgard _did_ have a soft spot for Bernadetta, but only because she trusted Helena. And, of course, Helena had to answer for Bernadetta’s training, when she was sloppy, before she turned her fear of the world into her personal blade and bow.

“You're always right, Nellie. That's why you're the best girlfriend ever,” Bernadetta said, rolling the words in affectionate sarcasm.

“Oh, shush,” Helena muttered. It hurt, sometimes, to hear Bernadetta say that, for several reasons. Chief among them was the fact that she wanted to keep their love a secret, with only Lady Edelgard and the professor in the know, though Helena suspected her agents of Ignatz and Ashe knew as well. Spies will be spies. Second, part of her still struggled to be seen as a real woman. It was ridiculous, of course—Helena was more woman than Hubert was ever a man—but that did little to quell the lifetime of doubt before _being_ Helena. Lastly, it hurt because she would much prefer to call the little hellion she trained her wife… but that would hopefully not be much of an issue soon, with enough evidence to get Lady Edelgard's official blessing that she could put up a public front to kill the bastard that tormented Bernadetta for most of her life. Or _depose_ him, as Bernadetta herself liked to put it.

Bernadetta moved her affections from Helena's neck to her lips, for which she was most grateful. For all the pleasures that came with loving Bernadetta, kissing her had always been Helena's favorite. There was something simply healing for her shriveled, hex-stained soul about placing her lips on Bernadetta's. It reminded her of their first kiss, when she had seen Bernadetta truly without fear for the first time. It made her beautiful then, and she was even more beautiful now, astride Helena's legs, pressed close together. Fear was Bernadetta's tool for dealing with the world, honed and whetted into a deadly weapon. It had no place in her heart, where Helena lived.

As the night progressed, their physical affections dimmed, but it had been replaced with the wonderful feeling of being the little bear. Bernie’s little bear. Helena enjoyed the imposing figure she struck in public—it was vital to Lady Edelgard's image to have a terrifying woman as the long shadow she cast—but Bernadetta made her feel small and loved, pressed up behind her, with her arm wrapped about Helena's bony ribs, caressing the pitiful chest that she inherited from the women the Vestra line. Helena was not one for envy, but Bernadetta constantly reassured her in their most intimate moments that Helena was beautiful, that her body was everything Bernadetta had wanted, could ever want, because it was Helena's. Truly, Helena felt she did not deserve a lover like Bernadetta, but she would kill to protect that love. They both _have_ killed for it. And, with any luck (as if Helena ever left anything to luck) they would do so one more time.

* * *

They had done it. Or, at least, Helena had done her part, slipping a _real_ sleeping poison into the count's wine. Dosed to have the man stay asleep while being moved, when Bernadetta's wiry upper body strength would drag him from his bed, through the manor, to Bernadetta's old suite, where his life would end. It was up to Count Varley on whether or not it was literal.

That's where Helena waited now, hiding in a small nook that Bernadetta's uncle installed in her youth. It had been a secret from the count, and Bernadetta's suite was so thick with dust that she felt perfectly safe lighting a candle and enjoying a quiet moment to herself. Within the hour, Bernadetta and her father would arrive, and the show would begin. Helena checked her vials and tools for at least the tenth time. The action brought her calm in its solidity.

Three vials for different flavors of agony. Two for truth, to be used in tandem. One to keep the count awake, should he try to slip under. Two for death, both slow and swift. And, finally, a wicked cocktail of four that would clean his mind of any memory of the night, should he choose a social death over a real one. Twelve of her favorite tools, all lined up in two neat rows of six.

Even next to the more wicked physical elements of her trade, these were the real fear. Once a poison was applied to a victim, it was inevitable. The poisons for agony had no antidote and must be suffered for the duration. Only the slow death could be averted, not the quick. And her special memory course, well, stopping it was _much_ worse than letting it work. This was true magic, true skill. For all the very deadly and effective party tricks Helena had learned, poison was her passion. Her calling.

Two sharp raps on the door brought Helena back to the present. She allowed herself a smile as she made her way to the door. Helena knew in her heart that Bernadetta was on the other side, but she was nothing if not one to stick to her plans. She waited for the ten count before she heard one more sharp rap on the door.

Unlocking in and pulling the door in. Bernadetta got to work straight away. She dragged a tall, thin man by the shoulders, and once his feet were past the threshold, Helena closed the door. They put him roughly on the centerpiece of Bernadetta’s old suite, a thick, rough wooden chair that was affixed with metal to the floor. Very sturdy, impossible to rattle or knock over. While this wasn’t the first interrogation Helena and Bernadetta had performed together, it had undoubtedly been the smoothest so far.

While Bernadetta fastened her father to the chair (rather viciously, Helena noted), Helena walked around the room, placing a series of sound-muffling wards. Her blood ached, feeling thick in her hands. A wave of dizziness threatened to overtake her. Normally, she would have stopped two wards ago, but after the wards were up, she would no longer need her magic and could let her blood rest and recover.

“They’re up, Ursa,” Helena said, letting Bernadetta know she was able to speak freely. Bernadetta didn’t acknowledge her. “Ursa? Are you okay?”

“Wh-what? Oh, um, yeah. I’m okay. I, uh, I gotta be,” Bernadetta mumbled, dragging her eyes away from her father.

“ _Ursa,_ ” Helena said sharply. Bernadetta was losing her edge, or more exactly, she was letting her edge turn back on herself. Helena grabbed Bernadetta’s shoulders, applying a sharp grip. Using their code names would whet that edge, train it back on her target. Bernadetta succumbed to fear, but Ursa did not.

“Corvid,” Bernadetta replied, relaxing her body by reflex alone.

Helena rubbed Bernadetta’s shoulders, softening just for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Being back here… it’s harder than I expected. But I can do this, Corvid,” she said, looking towards Helena and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ve got you, and that’s all I need to keep from going back.”

Helena allowed herself a small smile before taking a cloth twist, dabbing a bit of the agonies on it and wrapping it around the count’s eyes like a blindfold. Very shortly, the agony will seep into his tear ducts and begin its work.

Helena turned to Bernadetta and wrapped her arms around her in a light hug. She whispered, “Honeybear, you don’t have to do this. You know I won’t think less of you.”

“Names, Corvid,” Bernadetta chided, “and I need to do this for me.”

“Your oaf of a father is not yet awake, it’s just us,” Helena said quietly, sighing. “I know you need to do it for you. I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

“I love you,” Bernadetta said, leaning up on her toes to kiss Helena. Nothing like a little affection before inflicting frankly unnecessary amounts of pain to a helpless but very deserving victim. Helena had very little doubt that Count Varley would crack almost as soon as they began the interrogation proper, but she did not suspect she would be leaving the manor with much in the way of her agonies, regardless of whatever else transpired.

* * *

True to Helena’s intuition, he confessed to his crimes by the third round of agonies. If anything, she was a little disappointed in him for being so spineless. Even the normal brand of traitor could go five rounds. Not that Helena took much pleasure in actually inflicting pain, but with Count Varley, she could stand to be a little macabre with the affair.

Having confirmed the information, she was talking to Bernadetta about whether she wanted to let him go like they had promised. Lady Edelgard had let them both know it was up to Bernadetta’s choice as to what happened to her father.

“Corvid… I don’t want this responsibility,” Bernadetta said, playing with some of the frayed end of her shirt.

“He made your life hell. It is now your chance to do the same.”

“That pig forced his every wish on me. You have taught me that it is kinder to end a life than to let them suffer meaninglessly,” Bernadetta mumbled into Helena’s shoulder. “You have shown me that my fear is strength, and it is the strongest tool in my arsenal. But when I look at my father now… I don’t feel anything. There’s no fear to cut with, no suffering to give mercy. I’m not afraid of him. I don’t feel powerful. I don’t _care_ what happens to him now. All I have is you. That’s all I need, Corvid. Just you.”

Helena thought a long time about what she wanted to say, and with Count Varley passed out from agonies, she could afford it. The night was still young. Helena remembered when she first met Bernadetta, years ago, playing as officers in a school for nobility to send their whelps to learn discipline. She had been terrified of _everything._ But the thing she was terrified most of, back then, was the man Helena used to be.

Helena looked at the count, with that memory in mind. Bernadetta was scared of Hubert from then because he reminded her of the father she escaped from, the treatment she suffered under his rule. When Helena had become herself (after much and more encouragement from Lady Edelgard), Bernadetta came to her within the week. She wanted Helena to deal with her father. Helena, not unsympathetic to the prospect of awful fathers meeting their ends, came with a counter offer. She would train Bernadetta, and they would do it together, do it properly, so that the world would be none the wiser about it. Count Varley’s crimes would rot or die with him, and Bernadetta could take his seat. She had agreed. She wanted revenge.

But now, looking at the woman in her arms, Bernadetta was hollow. The flower of revenge not only wilted in her heart, it had been uprooted entirely. Somewhere along the line, Bernadetta’s thirst for revenge had changed. It had become a thirst for love. It was the love of a family that wanted her as an equal, not as a perfect daughter to marry off and maintain the noble bloodline. Helena, of course, was very in love with her, but it was also Lady Edelgard and the professor, who were sisters to her. It was Annette and her wife Mercedes, cheerful defectors from Faerghus, her closest friends. It was Ignatz, the mild-mannered spy from Leicester and colleague in her budding art career. It was _all_ of the Eagles. They were her family now. Bernadetta had no need to deal with her father, because he was _nothing_ to her anymore.

It didn’t change the fact that Bernadetta must choose his fate. “We cannot leave him here like this. His pitiful life is over. He has chosen to rot, but you—”

“Then let him rot. I don’t care. I’m tired. I want to go home,” Bernadetta said with a heavy sigh.

Helena kissed the crown of her head. “Then let’s get ready. The memory regimen is quick and will put him to sleep for a long time. We’ll be out of here, I’ll inform Lady Ed— _Draco_ that the count is guilty of treason, and you will never have to worry about him again.”

Bernadetta chuckled. “I don’t think you’ve ever used Draco’s name without messing it up a little. It’s really cute, Corvid. Sorry you didn’t get to have your fun.”

Helena stiffened. “Ursa, do you really think I take pleasure in interrogations?”

“You talked for a week about trying out a new agony mixture on my father. Said it was six times more potent than blood agony. _Six!_ ”

“That’s entirely different,” Helena said, deflecting from her embarrassment at being caught in a technicality. Helena didn’t care for torture, of course, but poisons could only truly be expressed through application. There were, understandably, no volunteers to help test her skills.

“If you say so,” Bernadetta said. She pulled Helena down for a soft kiss. “I wanna tell Annie and Mercie first. About us. Can we do that tomorrow morning?”

Helena winced at hearing Annette and Mercedes being named while acting under orders for secrecy, but they were never given code names, so Helena followed with a smile. “We can do whatever you want, now. Once I submit my report, our pact is complete. Besides, you’re the one who wanted to keep us secret, and I have done so, without question, because I respect you, Ursa.”

Bernadetta clutched at Helena’s shirt. “The pact is over. Use my name, Nellie. I want to hear you say it. Please.”

Operational security be damned, Helena couldn’t say no to her girlfriend right now. “Fine. Just for this evening, Bernadetta, I’ll do anything for you. At least, once we get home.”

* * *

Helena woke, once again, to knocking on the door. Her blood still ached from Lady Edelgard’s Lullabye (as the professor liked to call it, much to Lady Edelgard’s displeasure). Helena had barely fallen asleep, and already an interruption.

Bernadetta stirred behind her. “Nellie, can’t it wait?” She pulled Helena tight, unwilling to let her little bear go.

“I am ever at my Lady’s service, honeybear,” Helena said roughly, irritated with the interruption.

“Your grumbling tells me otherwise.”

“I’ll have you know, I grumbled every time you woke me up for a _sleeping potion_ ,” Helena muttered while she extracted herself from Bernadetta’s arms. It was so early in the night, she didn’t even need to snap the candle to life. Embers of the evening’s fire provided enough light to navigate Bernadetta’s room, not familiar enough to her navigate in the darkness.

“Oh, it’s you. What do you need, Linhardt?”

“Helena? I was hoping to speak to Bernadetta before she turned in for the night.”

Helena scowled at him, even knowing Lindhardt was immune to Helena’s empty threats of violence. She used the exact same scowl to scare Linhardt when she went to him for her monthly treatment, and it never stopped him from sticking her with that needle, nor Helena nearly passing out. Lindhardt held no judgments, but also was completely unflappable at all of Helena’s intimidation tactics.

Linhardt allowed himself a lazy smile. “It can wait until the morning. I’m rather tired myself, and it might be for the best that I wander off and find my own bed. I’m glad Bernadetta finally dropped that silly sleeping potion nonsense.”

Helena arched an eyebrow at that. “Sleeping potion nonsense?”

“Please, don’t insult my observational skills. If she truly had trouble sleeping, she would have come to me or Manuela. Don’t worry, though, I think most of the Eagles were fooled,” Lindhardt explained. “It was so much work to not say anything… actually, it was no work at all, but I’m just _needling_ you, my friend.”

Helena grimaced. “You grow bold in your complacency.”

“Just a little humor, Helena, don’t get so worked up. Well, please let Bernadetta know I wish to speak to her tomorrow. Have a nice night, you two.”

Helena shut the door in his face, glad to be rid of him. She heard Linhardt chuckle lightly as he wandered off. She was glad that the Eagles had taken so well to the relationship, not like it would have stopped Helena. She and Bernadetta already had the only blessing that mattered, Lady Edelgard’s, but it had made things smoother.

She shuffled back to Bernadetta’s bed—now _their_ bed by some measure, considering Helena hadn’t slept in her own room since giving her report to Lady Edelgard—to see Bernadetta already fast asleep. This is what she had sought for so long. At the end of a long day, weary, to see the woman she loved, peacefully slumbering, next to herself.

There was much left to do. A war to win, and that was just the beginning of it, but Helena allowed herself some measure of selfish satisfaction that Bernadetta’s war was over, and they did it together. Whatever horrors came in the mornings to come, the nights would bring her this peace, _this_ love.

**Author's Note:**

> Give Bernie a dead dad and she will eat for a day. Teach Bernie how to kill dad and you will feed her for a lifetime.
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/moonsmoocher), where I am gay.


End file.
